


No time for cryin' (Gonna get that crown)

by EthanTheAnnus



Series: they're homiesexual,,, the socks r coming off,,, [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: All the time, Angst, Banter, Bonding, Budding Love, Cheese, Developing Friendship, Developing Friendships, Dream is Done, Eventual Romance, George is too pure for his own good, Half-Mute!George, Hurt/Comfort, It's Kipo c'mon guys, Kidnapping, Kind of spoilery for Kipo, Kipo AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mind Control, Mutant Powers, Mute!BadBoyHalo, Mute!Patches, Mute!Sapnap, Mute!Schlatt, Mute!TommyInnit, Mute!Tubbo, Plot, Post-Apocalyptic, Romance, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Timbercats - Freeform, Umlaut Snakes - Freeform, dreamnotfound, in case anyone cant handle reading that kind of thing, kind of, plot heavy, there'll be a little note here when this starts to show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthanTheAnnus/pseuds/EthanTheAnnus
Summary: George could have stared forever, out over the city and up at the sky, but a small voice in the back of his mind told him he needed to move, that the Surface wasn’t safe, not like his Burrow had been. Forcing himself to move, he climbed up the rocks blocking the irrigation channel. He didn’t bother trying to call for his family, or for anyone; they had to be miles away by now, assuming they got out at all.Pulling himself up over the top, George let himself collapse onto his back on the cracked road for a moment to catch his breath. Goddamn whatever mute had broken into their home.-OR-George's Burrow is destroyed by a mega mute. Enlisting the help of a less than willing Dream, he's determined to find his Burrow, and his people, again.A Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts AU
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: they're homiesexual,,, the socks r coming off,,, [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959235
Comments: 48
Kudos: 210





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Since my cyberpunk au is all pre-written and I've written about three chapters worth of this so far (not sure what my posting schedule for this will be; I'm hesistantly saying every Friday, Melbourne time?), I thought I'd dive in and post this!!! I finished Kipo just yesterday and immediately started writing this, and pretty much just didn't stop. Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Fight The War from the Kipo soundtrack.

George slapped a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut tight and praying the spots swimming in his vision would go away. He’d been stupid, careless, and looked right into the sun. His first day on the Surface and  _ this  _ was the first thing he did? 

The second thing George did was to slowly uncover his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. His vision was clearing more with every blink, and he finally took in the ruined landscape around him. The Surface was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined, despite all the torn-down buildings and overgrowth.

George could have stared forever, out over the city and up at the sky, but a small voice in the back of his mind told him he needed to move, that the Surface wasn’t safe, not like his Burrow had been. Forcing himself to move, he climbed up the rocks blocking the irrigation channel. He didn’t bother trying to call for his family, or for anyone; they had to be miles away by now, assuming they got out at all.

Pulling himself up over the top, George let himself collapse onto his back on the cracked road for a moment to catch his breath. Goddamn whatever mute had broken into their home. 

George pushed himself to his feet again, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand as he stared down the city road before him. Everything looked mostly deserted- if you ignored the few mutes that quickly ran through intersections. Some George could put a name to; the Mega Bunnies that made the earth shake when they stepped, and the Dubstep Bees, which blasted noise and bombarded him with colour changing lights.

Others he’d never heard of in his life, creatures with extra legs or eyes or ears, creatures of every shape and size. It was wonderful, in his opinion, an absolute delight to look at, and he wanted nothing more than to explore forever and ever, but he had to find his Burrow again. Everyone he knew was there, and surely they’d be worried.

A small mute ran across his path, and George’s eyes tracked it; a small, brown tabby cat. It glanced back, and he noted that it had four eyes, and six legs, not unlike a lot of mutes running through the ruined, overgrown city. It was so adorable and so  _ small _ , and George couldn’t  _ not  _ try to pat it.

His decision made, George turned to follow the cat, cautiously so he wouldn’t scare it off. It was wandering deeper into the city, and since he didn’t know where his Burrow could be from here anyway, it didn’t hurt to follow this cat.

It stopped in a kind of courtyard, a decent ways from where the irrigation system had flushed George out onto the Surface earlier. Carefully, he approached the cat, smiling as it let him gently pat it.

“Hi there,” George whispered, and the cat leaned into his touch, purring loudly. A second later, George found himself being thrown backwards; he landed with a heavy thud, pain flaring through his back as it hit the tarmac, and when he opened his eyes with a wince, he found something very red, round and pointy right under his chin.

“What are you doing with my cat?”

George managed to look up enough to see the person at the other end of the weapon. They looked about to be his age, male, if he could tell right, in a dusty green hoodie and with a white mask obscuring his face, decorated with a simple smiley face.

“I-I was just patting it!” George lifted his hands defensively as he scrambled back, but the stranger met him pace for pace, keeping the weapon right under his chin. For a moment, the two of them froze as the stranger seemed to consider George’s words.

With a scrape of metal, the stranger drew the weapon back, holding it upright as he pulled back his mask, revealing an unfairly good-looking, green-eyed, blonde-haired young man, with clear hostility in his gaze.

“How have you even survived out here, if you went wandering after the first mute you saw?” The man’s brow furrowed. “Wait. You’re from a Burrow, aren’t you?”

George pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing. “A mega broke into our Burrow. I ended up here-”

With a quick spin of his staff-slash-sharp-pointy-thing, the stranger had the butt of his weapon pressed harshly under George’s chin, forcing his mouth closed. 

“Shut it,” the stranger said harshly. “I don’t want to hear your story. Just get out of my territory.”

George reached out, pushing the staff away. “I don’t know where to go, though. My Burrow-”

“Is none of my business, kid.” The stranger, who George was mentally calling Mr Grumpy Mask, turned away from him, leaning down to scratch his cat behind the ears. “Rule number one of the Surface: You worry about yourself first. You don’t survive by helping any random stranger who so happens to wander into your camp.”

“Can’t you even point me in the right direction?”

“There’s heaps of Burrows,” the stranger said with a loud sigh. “There’s no way to know which is yours, or even where in the name of fuck it is. Besides, you’d only hold me back.”

The stranger turned back to George and flicked the side of the red thing atop his staff. “You don’t even know what this is. You’re not even gonna make it two days.”

“Then teach me!” George got to his feet. “I’m a fast learner, I promise.”

The stranger gave him a doubtful look up and down. “You’re starting to get on my nerves, Burrow Boy.”

“George.” He extended a hand towards the stranger. “My name’s George.”

“Don’t care. Listen, kid, it’s nothing personal. I’m not apposed to company.” The stranger leaned down to pat his cat, emphasising his point. “But you know nothing about living on the Surface. You’ll be lunch meat in seconds.”

“Hey! You don’t know that!” George turned on the spot, pointing blindly down the street behind him. “That’s a Mega Bunny baby. See? I know  _ some  _ things.”

The stranger sighed. “There’s no getting rid of you, is there? If I get you back to your Burrow, will you be happy?”

“Yes! God, thank you,” George smiled, very much wanting to hug the stranger, but restraining himself.

“You better not die,” the stranger said, wielding the weapon towards him in a very threatening way. “I’m not doing this just for you to die halfway through.”

“No dying, got it,” George replied. “So, uh, what do I call you?”

“That’s Patches,” the stranger said, lowering the weapon and pointing at his cat. “And this is Stalky- my Deathstalker tail.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The man just rolled his eyes, pulling his mask back down and starting to walk down the road. Patches followed him immediately, and after a second, George followed too.

“I gotta call you  _ something _ ,” George said after a moment, and the stranger groaned.

“I don’t have a name, kid.”

“Well I guess I’ll have to give you one!” George smiled widely at the man beside him, who hunched his shoulders and made a sound of disapproval.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Hmmm…”

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

“How about…”

“Stop. No. Cease.”

“Dream? It’s kind of hopeful, y’know? Cause ‘dream’ can also mean your biggest goal or aspiration?”

“I hate it.” 

George smiled, seeing how the other man’s shoulders had relaxed the more he talked. “Whatever you say, Dream.”

******

They travelled for most of the day with the intention of making it to higher ground. George had remembered the symbol that was apparently above his Burrow, and so Dream had decided that moving to higher ground to try and spot it was the better idea. The two hadn’t spoken much, but by the time they reached the vantage point, Dream seemed less hostile than he had that morning.

“You said a clover, right, kid?”

“Yep, four leaves.” George rolled back on his heels, popping the ‘p’. “And can you stop calling me kid? We’re, like, the same age.”

Dream fixed him with a look. “I’m twenty.”

“I’m twenty-three! Hah!” George pointed at Dream with a triumphant look on his face, and the man just sighed, turning back to look out over the city. After a moment of celebration at being older for once, George joined him, letting out an audible gasp of awe at the view.

“It’s… so beautiful.”

“Whatever. We’re not here to stare at the view.” 

“Hey, it’s  _ my  _ first time on the Surface, not yours. Let me stare at whatever I want.”

Dream grunted, turning his gaze back to the city. “We’re supposed to be finding your Burrow.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun,” George said, sticking his tongue out at him. He turned his gaze to the landscape below, letting his gaze roam over the sprawling city and the overgrowth of plants. 

“There,” Dream said suddenly, pointing down at a spot where the roads twisted around and around, making a clover shape high over the earth.

“That’s it.” George felt a feeling he couldn’t explain rise up inside him. “That’s where my Burrow is, from the Surface…”

“It’s a long way away,” Dream mused, staring at it. “I can get you there, kid, but it’s gonna take a while.”

“I’m older than you, stop calling me kid! And how long exactly is a while?”

“Like a week, maybe two?” Dream leaned down to pat Patches, picking up Stalky with the other hand. “Three if we play it safe and avoid Skyscraper Ridge.”

“I don’t have that long! My people- my  _ family  _ are probably so worried right now. I have to get back, Dream.”

Dream studied George for a long moment, then flicked his mask down. “We’re avoiding Skyscraper Ridge. A Burrow Boy like you will be killed in an instant. It’s Deathstalker territory.”

George wanted to scream. Was Dream not getting that there was  _ no time _ ? He had people waiting for him. 

Instead, George took a deep breath. “Fine. Where are we travelling through?”

“The outskirts of Timbercat territory, for a start,” Dream said slowly. “They shouldn’t attack us as long as we stay along the borderline. Their territory makes up a big chunk of the journey.”

“Timbercats?”

“Hopefully you won’t have to meet one,” Dream said, tone serious. “Come on. It’s getting dark. We’d best hunker down here for the night.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I think Friday's for updates works well!!! I'm running to finish writing the third chapter to make sure I can post next Friday (I got sidetracked by my vlog au) but this time works for posting!!!

Dream already regretted agreeing to help George. Apart from giving him a name, all George seemed to be good for was reckless enthusiasm and spoiling Patches with attention. It was almost nauseating to think about how much longer they’d be travelling together, and how far of a stretch it was to find George’s Burrow.

He hardly slept that night, too worried that he’d close his eyes and something would swallow George whole, and then his entire day would have been wasted. It wasn’t because he cared or anything.

The next day, they set out for Timbercat territory. Dream decided now was as good a time as any to try and teach George about the Surface, in the hopes that he’d learn enough to stay alive long enough to return to his Burrow.

“Most mutes are dangerous. It’s best to assume it wants to kill you than to assume it doesn’t.”

“Everything wants to kill me, got it,” George repeated, way too cheerily considering the information.

“Mutes up here fight. A lot. And if they see us humans, they’re not gonna be too friendly,” Dream continued.

“Why do they fight? I mean, couldn’t they get more done if they worked together?”

“It’s just how it is, Burrow Boy. There’s limited supplies, so everyone fights to hold on to what they can.” Dream shifted his grip on Stalky. “If you want to survive up here, you’d better learn how to do that too.”

“I’m not planning on staying up here for long,” George argued. 

“While you’re up here, you gotta play by the Surface rules.” Dream kicked at a loose piece of road. “That means fighting for what’s yours. You’re not in a Burrow anymore, kid.”

“That’s what I’ve got you for!” George leaned down, patting Patches for the umpteenth time that day, and Dream clenched his teeth, thankful for the mask hiding his facial expressions.

“Come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.”

Dream picked his path carefully through the ruined city, clambering over debris and fallen buildings with ease. He could hear George struggling behind him, but didn’t look back once. The other boy needed to learn some semblance of independence while he was up here on the Surface, and he wasn’t going to get that if Dream just handed him help every time he asked for it.

Flicking up his mask to see better, Dream stared down the road they were walking along, taking in a breath as he saw how, just within his line of vision, the ruined cityscape faded into trees. An absolute overgrown forest lay just ahead, and Dream hated that he had to journey through there, and with a  _ Burrow boy  _ of all things.

“Timbercat territory’s just up ahead,” he said when he could hear George scramble up beside him, gasping for breath. “As long as we keep the noise down, they shouldn’t bother us.”

George held up a hand. “Can I… catch my… breath… just for… a second…?”

“No. We have to keep moving.” Dream spun Stalky in his hands as his gaze flicked over the area before he pushed his mask back down. “This part of the city is a kill zone after dark.”

George nodded breathlessly. “Ok… you’re the… expert…”

Dream began to pick his way down the ruins they’d climbed atop. This was going to be a loooong few weeks.

******

Dream  _ hated  _ Timbercat territory. Brambles tripped him up at every turn, and the trees were so densely packed that he wouldn’t be able to see so much as a mega until it was right on top of them. George seemed as carefree as ever, which was equal parts comforting and infuriating. 

Dream had taken to wondering if George knew the meaning of caution or fear. He didn’t doubt that the kid from the Burrow could probably stare down an Umlaut Snake without losing the smile on his face. Something about the thought was strangely calming.

Dream froze as branches cracked behind him, and he dropped into a crouch, holding Stalky defensively. He tilted his head, trying to locate the sound.

“George,” he said quietly. “Get down.”

Instantly the other boy dropped into a crouch, and Dream wondered what in hell he’d done to earn the trust of someone so quickly. A rustling came from next to him, and Dream spun around, kicking out his foot in a sweeping arc. There was a loud thud as his foot connected with something stocky and solid, bringing the creature down.

Dream quickly scrambled upright to stand over whatever it was, pointing Stalky at the creature before truly taking it in. It was a Timbercat, male, and less stocky than most Timbercats. Dream noted how weird looking this particular Timbercat was, even as far as mutes go; the creature was solid black, with what looked like horns curling out of his head, and eyes so light a gray they looked almost white.

“Put down the Deathstalker tail, kid,” came a voice from behind Dream, full of authority, and he felt the blade of an axe press lightly into his back. Slowly, Dream lowered Stalky, then took a cautious step back, finding that whoever was behind him let him move without slicing his back to pieces.

Dream’s gaze slid over to where George was, still crouched in the grass, and he prayed that the other boy was smart enough to stay put. Unfortunately, it seemed Dream was hoping for too much; George popped up almost immediately.

“Hey! That’s my friend you’re pointing an axe at!”

“Acquaintance, not friend,” Dream corrected him. “And couldn’t you have stayed down? Damnit, kid.”

“I’m not just gonna watch you get carved into tiny meat chunks,” George argued. “Ooh, let me guess, these are the Timbercats you warned me about!”

Dream wished he could fling himself off a cliff. “Shut. Up.”

“You’re from a Burrow,” the Timbercat behind Dream said slowly, and Dream let out a loud groan.

“Oh just let  _ everyone  _ find out, why don’t we? Maybe while you’re at it you can point in awe at the stars again!”

“Enough.” The Timbercat behind Dream pressed his axe a little harder against Dream’s back. “Why are you on our territory?”

“We’re passing through,” Dream said. “We’re sticking to the outskirts of your territory, and we’ll be clear of it in a few days.”

The axe pressed against his back was pulled away, and Dream carefully turned, and found himself looking at a dark tabby Timbercat wielding a purple axe, that seemed to double as a guitar. 

“You’re trespassing on Timbercat territory. We’ll decide what to do with you come morning. For now, you’re our prisoners.”

Dream let out a long, loud groan. “Great. Just great.”


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update schedule who? i only know impulsively uploading because i feel like it... 4 days earlier than usual, please enjoy :)

George thought the Timbercats were honestly pretty cool. They hadn’t immediately tried to eat him and Dream, despite what the other man had insisted the past day, and they seemed more civil than Dream had made them out to be. 

“You live here?” George said with a gasp as the Timbercats led them into a clearing in the forest, where the trees stretched high and had stairways carved into their trunks. From where he stood, George could see lights glowing from inside the trees, and small carvings down near the bases of the trees that looked like names.

“No, we brought you here because we  _ don’t  _ live here,” the thin, odd black cat Dream had attacked earlier said, deadpan. 

“It’s beautiful,” George said quietly. “You carved out all the trees, right? Like the stairs, the places you live… Oh!”

He darted over to crouch by the base of one of the trees. The thin black cat growled, moving to follow him, but the dark tabby with the weird purple guitar-axe that George was pretty sure marked him as the leader held up a paw to stop him. 

“These  _ are  _ names!” George gently ran his fingers over them. “These scratches look so small… You carve these as kittens! God, that’s so cool.”

The thin black cat stepped up to George’s side. With a large paw, he gestured to some tiny writing on the wall. George strained to make it out; the three wobbly letters spelled out the name ‘Bad’.

“That’s mine,” the Timbercat said softly. George reached up, running his fingers gently over it.

“It’s beautiful.”

“That one’s mine,” said a voice from George’s other side, and he turned to see the tabby pointing to another mark on the tree, harsh, deep scratches that read ‘Sapnap’. Slowly, other Timbercats made their way over, pointing to where they’d inscribed their name into the tree base as a kitten; George found himself following them from tree to tree, smiling broadly as each cat pointed out the scratchy scrawls.

Finally, when every one of the Timbercats had shown him their name, George turned back to look at Dream, who’d flicked his mask up and was staring at George with the most awestruck expression a human could muster. George just smiled broadly at him.

“No one’s ever taken the time to appreciate any of our culture before,” Bad said from beside George, nearly making him jump. “Much less a human.”

“I’ll be impressed if he can wrangle one of the forest fleas,” the Timbercat leader, Sapnap, cut in. “But the appreciation is nice.”

“The Surface is fascinating,” George said, smiling broadly and spreading his arms for emphasis. “Look at all of this! You built all this yourselves!!! It’s  _ amazing _ . Do other mutes have cultures too? God, I wonder how different they all are-”

“We’re not here to gawk and stare,” interrupted Dream, stepping forward. “We’re trying to get you home.”

“Right, right.” George paused. “But while we’re up here-”

“No.” Dream turned to look up at the Timbercats. “We’re just passing through, I swear. His Burrow is a decent way from here, and the outskirts of your territory were part of our path.”

Sapnap seemed to consider this. “If you make us dinner tonight, I will let you continue through our territory.”

Bad raised his axe. “I can escort them.”

Sapnap turned his gaze to George. “This shouldn’t be too big of a task.”

George smiled. “Piece of cake.”

******

George almost immediately decided upon making the Timbercats pancakes. It was something simple, easy, and everyone loved pancakes, no matter who they were.

“I have a sleeping draught,” Dream said as George stirred the batter, pulling out a small vial. “We can put this into the mixture, slip away-”

“No.” George shook his head as he stirred. “Tricking them isn’t the answer. They’ll just come after us in anger. Trust me.”

Dream stared at him for a second, then looked down at the vial in his hand, then let out a loud groan and put the vial away. “Alright, Burrow Boy. What’s your plan?”

“Cook them pancakes,” George replied, fixing Dream with a look. “I have a good recipe. They’ll love it.”

Dream threw his hands up, exasperated. “Great. Just great.”

“Don’t discredit me yet, Dream,” George said, carefully scooping some of the mixture onto the cooktop. “You might be surprised.”

“I better be, kid,” Dream responded, slumping down against one of the kitchen walls, Stalky clattering to the ground beside him. 

“I’m older than you.”

“You’re a kid to the Surface. Here I’m the one with the knowledge.”

“Oh so  _ you’re  _ the one who just appeased the Timbercats by appreciating their culture. Got it.”

“You’re insufferable, Burrow Boy.”

“Nah, you love it,” George said, poking his tongue out at Dream. For a moment, it felt like they’d known each other far longer than just two days.

“This batch is done,” George said then, breaking them from their trance, as he plated up the pancakes. “Take 'em in to the cats.”

“What am I, your slave?” Dream raised a single eyebrow at George, who just laughed.

“Come on, I gotta start cooking the next lot.”

Dream flicked down his mask and accepted the plate of high-piled pancakes that George handed him. “Whatever, Burrow Boy.”

George flicked pancake batter at Dream, who ducked, causing it to splatter against the wall behind him. George laughed as Dream left the kitchen and headed for the mess hall, then turned back to flip his pancakes.

Hopefully he was right, and the Timbercats did like these, or else he and Dream were screwed.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in just as many days??? quick someone check my temperature, i don't know if im well

Dream was pretty amazed when George finally emerged from the kitchen to join him in the mess hall, where all the Timbercats were absolutely devouring his pancakes. To say they’d like George’s cooking was an understatement, and from the way George was beaming at him, Dream was highly aware he’d been proven wrong. 

George was interesting, to say the least, and Dream found himself fascinated by this kid and his fearlessness. For someone who’d lived in a Burrow his entire life, George didn’t fear the unknown, didn’t cower at any mute that glared at him. It was… kind of amazing, really.

Dream wondered if there was even a hint of fear in George’s mind any time he saw a mute, or if he’d panicked at all when standing up to the Timbercats who’d caught Dream. Which raised another question; why would someone who was still practically a stranger risk their life for Dream?

Dream couldn’t work it out. If George was a puzzle, Dream was still searching for the corner pieces, trying to build together even the outer frame of who he was. When he thought he had him pinned down, George would do something that left Dream dumbfounded once again.

Maybe it was a Burrow thing, something engrained by living in a colony of humans rather than on the Surface where fear was a constant, but somehow that didn’t feel like the right answer. Dream was sure he could spend years trying to figure George out, and he still wouldn’t draw the right conclusions. He found himself watching now as the boy from the Burrow joined the Timbercats in dancing around their mess hall, smiling broadly as the Timbercat band played music loud.

From where Dream sat with his mask flicked up, he could see the leader of the Timbercats, Sapnap, let George take him by the paw and drag him into the centre of the hall. It was shocking, to say the least, to see that the mute was smiling, wide and joyful. Dream stared down at his hands, at his feet, and tried to remember if he’d ever danced like that in his life.

“Dream!” George’s voice was full of joy, and when Dream lifted his head, he saw the hand George extended to him. “Come dance!”

Dream stared for a moment, first at George, then at his open hand and the invitation it held. He could let his cares go, for a moment; could dance with George and the Timbercats in this hall that smelled of syrup and cat and fresh pine wood. He turned his head to the side, flicking down his mask before folding his arms across his chest.

“These cats could kill us at any moment,” Dream said stiffly. “They’re not your friends.”

Out the corner of his eye, Dream could see George’s face fall. He hated the way it made his chest twist, but he figured it was better this way. He couldn’t let himself grow soft, couldn’t let his guard down for a second, not up here on the Surface. Dancing was a thing humanity should have left behind 200 years ago,  _ did _ leave behind 200 years ago, in favour of survival.

The thin black Timbercat, Bad, eyed Dream coldly before turning to offer George a dance. Dream watched as George’s entire face lit up once again, and curled in on himself more. Survival mattered more than the happiness of his companion, Dream had decided, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. Not even a single dance.

*******

“Get up, Burrow Boy.” Dream nudged George harshly with the butt of Stalky. “We gotta keep moving.”

“Hnng… Dream, it’s still dark out…”

“The sun’s about to rise. You can watch it while we walk. Admire the colours or whatever.” Dream couldn’t believe he was really saying that, with all the danger of the Surface, but some part of him had grown more than a little fond of George during their short time together.

“What happened to  _ ‘Admiring the view gets you killed’ _ ?” George asked with the worst fake innocent voice Dream had ever heard in his life.

“That’s what you’ve got me for, right?” Dream spun Stalky in his hands, then slammed the butt of the weapon down into the ground. “Your protection.”

George snorted, sitting up and stretching, his bones popping. “Yeah, you’re a real hero.”

Dream didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, but he chose to ignore it. “Come on. There’s still heaps of ground to cover.”

Dream started walking, and a moment later he heard George scramble after him. He shook his head slightly, a small, fond smile working its way onto his face, hidden under his mask. The sun started to rise in front of them, but Dream barely glanced at it, ignoring the array of colours painting the sky before him.

“See? Sunrise. Don’t fall behind staring at it,” Dream said.

“Yeah, uh…” George paused. “I’m, uh, red-green colour blind. Half the color spectrum isn’t available to me. I’m assuming Stalky is red… right?”

Dream almost froze up, trying to imagine what a life without reds and greens would be like, and turned back to look at George. “Yeah, yeah, it’s red. How’d you work that out?”

  
  


George shrugged. “When you grow up seeing a lot of colours as greys or watered down yellows or oranges, you learn how to make… Guesses, kind of. I mean, the orange-y colour I see Stalky as is slightly darker than, like, stuff I’ve been told is normal orange.”

Dream’s head reeled from the information, and he turned back around, continuing down their route, the leaf litter of the forest floor crunching under his heel. “God, I couldn’t imagine not seeing certain colours.”

“Well, I can’t imagine seeing all the colours,” George replied, in a way that made it sound almost competitive. Dream chose not to respond, instead leaning down to gently scratch Patches’ head while he mentally mapped out their next move.

“Timbercat territory stretches out a long way,” he said after a moment. “About another day’s walk, maybe? That’s when things get tricky.”

“Tricky?” George was standing at Dream’s side now, looking down at him with a puzzled expression. 

Dream’s voice was grim when he spoke again. “We have to skirt the edges of Umlaut Snake territory, and trust me, they’re not gonna be easy won over like the Timbercats.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> george is slowly growing on dream and it Shows


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Again, back with another chapter. I’ve updated three days in a row, wild, I know. Writing this has kind of become a stress relief, and chapters aren’t super long (just over 1k usually), so daily updates are likely to continue :)

George had only spent two full days with Dream at this point, and really didn’t know much about him, but he was definitely attached, and from the small hints of sincerity he could pick up in Dream’s voice, he’d grown on the Surface human too. It was betrayed in the way Dream’s voice would soften sometimes, or the fact that he’d said George could admire the sunrise, or the way he no longer looked annoyed whenever George reached down to run his hand along Patches’ back.

Most of all, it showed after Dream learned of his color blindness. They’d walked in silence for about an hour before Dream had spoken again.

“What colours can you see, then?”

“Blue, yellow, some orange,” George began. “Kind of brown. Black. That’s about it. A lot of whites, or watered down grey tones of colours.”

Dream fell silent for a moment. “You can’t see purple, then? Or red? Or green? Or pink?”

George shook his head. “No. They’re just… orange or yellow or blue or white.”

“Red,” Dream began, sounding hesitant, “It’s… warmth. Love. Passion. It’s also anger. Rage.”

George closed his eyes for a moment, letting Dream’s words flow over him. “What about green?”

Dream made a startled noise, as if he hadn’t thought George would actually listen. “Green… Green’s the grass. The ground. Nature. Calm and tranquil. It’s peaceful.”

“Pink?” George requested quietly, opening his eyes again and turning his focus to Dream.

“Pink’s red, but softer.” Dream seemed to be growing in confidence as he spoke. “Calmer. Gentler love than red. There’s no anger in it.”

“And purple?”

George heard Dream exhale. “Purple’s… A party colour. It’s wild. Free. Fun. Pure chaos, sometimes.”

George smiled at Dream, reached out, and took his hand in his for a second, just to give it a small squeeze. “Thank you.”

Dream jerked his hand back like it had been burnt. “No problem,” he said, voice gruffer than usual. George pretended not to notice.

“So, Umlaut Snakes,” George said after a moment. “What are they like?”

Dream seemed to tense up. “Deadly.”

“You say that about  _ everything  _ on the Surface.”

“That’s not true. I’ve never said that about Patches. Or you.”

“I can be deadly!”

Dream turned to face him, and George was sure he was giving him a look from under the mask. “You’re from a Burrow. I doubt you could kill a fly.”

“Hey! That’s mean. The flies are just trying to live their life.”

“My point stands,” Dream said, and George could hear the smirk in his voice.

“That’s it, get over here, I’m going to strangle you,” George said, stretching his hands toward Dream.

“You couldn’t reach.”

“T-then I’ll take your knees!”

Dream snorted, spinning Stalky so it was now pointed at George. “Try me, bitch.”

George studied him for a second. “Yeah, ok, no thanks.”

Dream laughed, bringing Stalky back upright before continuing to walk. George found himself smiling, and suddenly realised how easily he and Dream had fallen into their banter, into this rhythm of teasing and laughter and joking threats. It was nice, George mused, and a part of him ached when he remembered that within just a matter of weeks they’d be parting ways.

George would go back to his Burrow, to his people and his sheltered, safe life, and Dream would stay here on the Surface, fighting for his survival day in and day out. Somehow, George wished it didn’t have to be that way.

*******

George could see where the forest gave way to rolling deserts, far off on the horizon. From beside him, Dream stared dead ahead, his mask flicked up and jaw set.

“Umlaut Snake territory,” Dream said, his voice betraying no emotion. “We’ll reach it by midday tomorrow.”

George exhaled. “One step closer to home.”

“One step closer to your Burrow,” Dream agreed, an odd, strained tone to his voice. 

“Soon you’ll be rid of me,” George said in a teasing manner, but Dream stayed silent, simply flicking his mask down before turning to the clearing behind them.

“We should set up traps. For safety.”

George ignored the small sting in his chest at Dream’s change of tone, forcing himself to nod and setting about helping Dream with his traps. As he did so, the tasks mindless, his thoughts wandered.

It had been little over three days into travelling with Dream; thanks to the Timbercats capturing them, they’d actually covered the forest a lot quicker than Dream had anticipated, meaning their total travel time would probably drop down to just over a week. Something in George was kind of disappointed by this.

When their journey was done, George would return to his Burrow, and Dream wouldn’t be with him anymore. The thought made his chest feel hollow. George had grown attached in these three days, he realised, and he would only grow more attached the longer they travelled together.

George almost considered leaving Dream behind, before he remembered that he didn’t know the way back to his Burrow. He cursed his lack of knowledge of the Surface, cursed the fact that he needed a guide, cursed the fact that his guide happened to be funny and witty and charming. 

If that stupid mega hadn’t broken into his Burrow, hadn’t shaken the earth so violently that George was sent plummeting into the irrigation channels and vomited up onto the Surface, he wouldn’t have been here. He’d be with his people, down in his Burrow, safe.

He would never have met the Timbercats. He would never have seen any mutes in person, never would have seen the sky, never would have seen the stars. He never would have met Dream.

The thought of not having met the witty, toughened Surface human left an awful feeling in George’s gut. Right then and there, he decided that he couldn’t wish to never have met Dream. Even if all he was left with in the near future was memories of his companion, it would be worth it.

George ignored the way his chest tightened at the thought of leaving the Surface and Dream behind, and focused back in on securing rope to the branch of one of the forest trees. Right now, he had to worry about staying alive, not his stupid emotions.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot's really starting to kick in this chapter! I'm having a blast with this au :)

Dream rose before the sun did, his night’s sleep having been patchy and restless. Exhaustion weighed down on him, but he ignored it, knowing he had to keep his wits about him today. 

His gaze slid to George’s sleeping form. The boy from the Burrow looked so peaceful, and so young, and Dream’s gaze hardened as he stared at the horizon, and the tiny speck of desert he could only just see. Umlaut Snake territory was dangerous, and he refused to let George get himself killed there.

Had it really only been three days since they’d met? It felt far longer. Had it really only been a night ago when George had offered him to dance? Somehow, it felt like a memory from months ago.

His mind drifted briefly to the Timbercats, to their leader and his second in command. Sapnap and Bad looked tough on the outside, had stared him down and raised their axes, yet they hadn’t killed them. Instead, a boy who’d lived his entire life underground and knew nothing about the Surface had made peace with them; made  _ friends  _ with them. 

It absolutely dumbfounded him, and he was starting to question all he knew about mutes. Funny, that was, how someone who had lived in a Burrow since before he even existed could make Dream question the world he’d been thrust into the second he was born. 

From where he lay, George stirred, and Dream looked up, seeing the sun had risen enough that it was brushing the tops of the trees. With a small, lopsided smile, he leaned over, nudging the still-mostly-sleeping boy with the tip of his boot.

“Come on, kid, get up.”

“Hhhhh… I’m older than you…” came George’s sleepy reply. 

“It’s time to get moving,” Dream said, flicking down his mask as George sat up, blocking him from seeing the stupidly fond smile that had formed on his lips. “I don’t want to be stuck in Umlaut Snake territory after dark.”

George stretched, his joints popping. “Why do we always have to get up at the ass crack of dawn?”

“It’s not the ass crack of dawn,” Dream said, gesturing to the sun with Stalky. “It’s like, half an hour after the ass crack of dawn.”

George squinted in the direction he was pointing. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

Dream shook his head slightly as George got to his feet, pausing to scratch Patches behind the ears as he did.

“I’ve never seen a desert before,” George said as they began walking. “Not in person, anyway.”

“It’s not a fun place, Burrow Boy,” Dream replied. “It’s hot, stretches out for miles, and there’s little to no water. Sand in every direction, and if you stay out too long in the sun, you start hallucinating.”

“They call that a mirage,” George said, nodding in a wise-looking way that almost made Dream crack up laughing. 

“Trust me, they’re not fun.”

George just grinned at him. Dream got the distinct feeling he should whack him over the head with Stalky.

“We’re also going to have no cover,” Dream continued. “Anyone could show up. There’s been rumours of a mute who’s been hunting down humans, for whatever reason.”

“Sounds like every mute you’ve ever described, then,” George replied, and Dream immediately shook his head.

“No, not like every other mute. Usually mutes will fight every creature that sets a foot in their territory, with just a slight bit more distaste for humans than for other mutes. None have actively hunted down humans before.”

George seemed a little startled by this. “Surely this mute wouldn’t dare venture into another mute’s territory?”

Dream hefted Stalky, his voice grim. “I don’t know. It might.”

*******

The desert was even hotter than Dream remembered. Within minutes he was sweating and dragging his feet in the sand, and George seemed to be fairing far worse than he was. 

“Here,” Dream said after a moment, tossing George a canteen of water. “Make it last. We’re about a day’s journey away from clearing this place.”

George groaned loudly. “A day? I can’t stand this for another five minutes.”

“It’s this or living the rest of your life with the Timbercats, and not finding your Burrow,” Dream reminded him, and George fell silent. 

As the day wore on, the sun beat down on them, seeming to burn hotter and hotter. Dream hated that the Umlaut Snakes were nocturnal, hated that they couldn’t cross the desert under the cool of night, but he couldn’t do anything about it. They trudged onwards and onwards until finally, just before sunset, George collapsed into the sand behind Dream.

“Can’t… Go… Any… Further…” George managed. 

“That’s okay,” Dream said, finding his voice took on a softer note for once. “We’ll continue tomorrow. We’ll be out of here before the sun fully rises and the heat hits properly.”

George gave him a weak smile before his eyes closed. Dream let him be, exhaustion tugging at his own limbs as he set up the camp around them for the night. Dream was finally settling in for the night when a loud squawking screech came from overhead.

Instinctively, he leapt to his feet, snatching up Stalky and standing protectively over George’s sleeping form, gaze roaming over the sky as he tried to spot the source of the noise. For a moment, everything was quiet and still.

Then, from the pitch black of the sky burst flamingos, two headed and nasty, and far too many to count. Humanoid figures rode atop them, and Dream felt his eyes stretch wide. From under him, George stirred.

“Dream? Wh-” George spotted the incoming mutes and seemed to freeze. A second later, something about him shifted. It took Dream a second to realise that somehow, his hand had turned into a large, clawed paw. 

Dream didn’t have time to try and question it, to try and ask George why the fuck he suddenly had the arm of a mute, because one flamingo was descending faster than the others, and sitting atop it was a grinning mandril sporting two ram’s horns.

“Hello, human scum,” the mute hissed, smiling wide, and Dream raised Stalky, preparing himself for the fight of his life.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day??? yes. bc I've almost written the entirety of the chapter following this one, and i couldn't help myself, ok???

George’s left arm felt heavy. Exhaustion must have been getting to him, because it felt oversized and dead and heavy and  _ powerful _ . His gaze was blurred, but he could see the creatures descending from the sky. 

He heard the voice of someone who wasn’t Dream ring out in an awful tone, and something in George urged him to do something, to get up, to run, to pouce, to attack. His blood seemed to surge in his veins, and a second later he’d scrambled upright, startling Dream.

Then, before he could think about what he was doing, George was charging straight at the odd, oversized mandrill. The ape’s grin faded to look of horror as George’s swung his left arm at him, swiping him across the face with sharp claws that drew blood and with enough force to send him flying.

_ Claws. A paw. Not an arm. _

George stared down at what had been his left arm, stared at the large paw, the blue tinted fur, and promptly screamed.

“What the  _ fuck  _ is happening to me?” George yelled as he shook the paw around violently, hoping that somehow that would make it go away. “Why won’t it _ leave _ ?”

“George! Now isn’t the time!” Dream was charging past him, swinging Stalky at the closest flamingo. Snapping back into action, George decided to use the paw to his advantage.

Flying at one of the oversized, two headed birds, he slashed at them. His claws slid through their feathers and flesh easily, blood spurting out from the wound and staining his blue-tinted fur. George immediately leaped back, feeling awful about the wound he’d inflicted, and immediately felt something latch onto his shoulder.

He could feel teeth trying to dig in, pressing down, and he spun, lashing out blindly. The flamingo that had grabbed him let out a screech of pain, and George was surprised to find himself hissing in response.

A noise of anger came from the mandrill, who was climbing back onto his flamingo. “Fall back! These humans aren’t worth the effort.”

George’s lip curled up in a half snarl as their attackers retreated. Dream relaxed his defensive stance, letting Stalky drop from his hands into the sand as he panted. George stared down at his paw again, the panic from earlier setting in again.

“Dream,” he said quickly, trying to calm himself, “What the fuck is happening to me?”

Dream turned to him, flicking up his mask as he stepped closer to George, carefully taking the paw in his hands. “I don’t know. But I know where we can go for help.”

“Someone could help me?”

“They’re a little way off course,” Dream said slowly. “The T Brothers. They know, well, pretty much everything.”

George swallowed. “I don’t want to go off course.”

“Don’t you want to get this fixed?” Dream sounded confused.

“No! I don’t! I just want to keep moving!” George hadn’t meant to snap, but the second he did, Dream’s gaze hardened.

“You’re going to make us a target!”

“I don’t  _ care _ !”

“You  _ need  _ to get it fixed, George! You can’t just-”

“I just want to go home!” George yelled, cutting Dream off. Silence fell between them for a second before George managed to speak again. “I miss my people. I hate it up here. I-I don’t want to fight for survival or worry about attack from the skies o-or be here talking to you. I want my Burrow.”

Dream flinched back like he’d been stung. “So I’m not good enough company for you?”

“Dream-”

“No, no, I see how it is. You want to go back to your mole people? Fine. I’ll tell you the route in the morning, and then I can leave.”

George felt his chest sink. “Dream, please, I-”

“Get some sleep,” Dream said roughly, flicking down his mask and picking up Stalky. “I’ll keep watch.”

George settled down onto the sand, trying to ignore the scent of bloodstained fur and how much heavier his arm felt now than before. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

*******

George awoke to the sun barely peeking out over the horizon. Dream stood not far from him, stock still and staring. His arm still felt heavy and furry, and blood dried in his fur was uncomfortable.

Wincing, he got to his feet. Dream turned to him, his mask still down.

“Morning,” was all he said, voice void of emotion. 

“Morning,” George replied tiredly before taking in a breath. “Dream, I- we need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, we do!” George sighed. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m just… scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and we just got attacked, and… And I was awful to you.”

Dream let out a low growl. “You want to be back in your Burrow. I’m giving you the route. You won’t have to see me again.”

George felt his heart crack. “Dream, please, I-I  _ like  _ talking to you, I like being around you. It’s just… Those first few days, the Surface didn’t feel scary. Dangerous, sure, but not scary. What I said last night… I meant I didn’t want to be on the  _ Surface, _ not that I didn’t want to be around you.”

Dream was silent for a moment, before he lifted Stalky up, resting the weapon over his shoulder and extended his free hand towards George. “Come on. Let’s get that paw fixed, then head back to your Burrow, okay? It’ll only take a couple of days extra, I swear.”

George stared at Dream’s hand for a second before he broke out into a smile, leaping up to pull Dream into a tight hug.

“Ow! George, your fucking claws are  _ in my back _ -”

“Oops, sorry,” George said, immediately leaping back. “I’m not used to… this.” He lifted his paw up, and Dream laughed softly.

“Soon you won’t have to be used to it.” Dream turned his gaze to the left, to where one could faintly see the desert giving way to a ruined city once again. “Now, the T Brothers are in that direction. A pretty remote forest. We should-”

Dream was cut off as he was picked up, feet leaving the ground as the flamingo that had swooped in and snatched him flew up higher. George leaped up, slashing with his paw in a desperate attempt to stop the bird, but his jump wasn’t nearly high enough.

“Dream!”

All he could do was watch as Dream was lifted higher. Stalky was shaken out of Dream’s grip, falling down, down, down and landing in the sand at George’s feet. He stared down at it for a moment, then picked it up.

He was going to get Dream back. But first, he had to find the T Brothers.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three in one day... OOPS

Dream’s knees buckled under him as he was thrown onto a marble floor. A low chuckle came from in front of him as he slowly lifted his gaze, greeted with the sight of the grinning mandrill with the ram’s horns.

Close up, Dream could see the horns were actually merged with his flesh seamlessly, and somehow that was more disturbing than them just being attached to the outside. The mandrill must have noticed where his gaze was, for he laughed.

“I got these from a young mega,” the mandrill said, as a way of explanation as he tapped one of the horns. “I didn’t mean to kill the poor wretch, but apparently taking a ram’s horns is enough for them to bleed out. My best surgeon helped me merge them with my flesh.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Dream growled.

“Who am I?” The mandrill laughed again. “The better question is, who are you? You were with that… odd beast of a boy, in the desert, were you not?”

Dream let out an animalistic snarl, and the mandrill tsked at him.

“No need to get pissy. He’s not here to control you anymore!”

“George didn’t control me,” Dream said through gritted teeth. 

The mandrill didn’t seem to hear Dream. “Come on, you’re my guest! Let me give you a tour.”

Dream shakily got to his feet, feeling unsteady. “I’m your… what now?”

“Guest!” The mandrill turned to him with a gleeful grin. “You fight like a mute on a rampage. Someone like you seems like an ally worth having. Oh, where are my manners, I haven’t even introduced myself!”

The mandrill leaned in close to Dream, his breath hot and stinking against Dream’s face. “I’m the one who’s going to rule this ruined city. Your future emperor. Schlatt.”

Dream normally would have laughed at the name, but he couldn’t bring himself too, fear coursing through him, hot and quick. Schlatt leaned back, and gestured to one of the hallways. 

“Come come!”

Dream followed the mute, eyes slowly roaming over the place he was in. It was an old mansion, he soon realised, still somehow mostly intact and clean despite the destruction in the rest of the city. 

“It wasn’t too bad when I found it,” Schlatt said, noticing his gaze. “But of course I restored it to its former glory. Cleaned it all up nicely and rebuilt the rooms that had collapsed. It took a few years.”

“Impressive,” Dream said, his throat dry. The more the mute talked, the more nervous he got. Everything in him was telling him to run, but the place was no doubt heavily guarded, and even if he still had Stalky, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Ah, here we are.” Schlatt paused in front of a large bedroom. “This is where you’ll be staying until your naming ceremony tomorrow.”

“My what?”

“Naming ceremony!” Schlatt said as he very unceremoniously shoved Dream into the room. “Oh, and the guards will ensure no one disturbs you.”

Schlatt pulled the door shut, leaving Dream alone. The underlying intent of Schlatt’s last sentence had been very clear; there was no escape for him. He sighed, pressing his back against the door and sinking down slowly.

Part of him hoped George would come for him. Maybe the stupid idiot would rally the Timbercats, or maybe he’d manage to sneak in. 

Part of him hoped George wouldn’t come for him. He could get captured or killed or a million others things. Hopefully he was heading to the T Brothers instead of towards here.

Dream sighed again, curling up where he sat and closing his eyes, praying that wherever George was, he was safe.

********

Dream was woken by a loud knocking at the door. 

“It’s time for your naming ceremony!” came Schlatt’s sing-song voice. Dream scrambled away from the door just before it swung open. Schlatt’s eyes narrowed at him.

“You’re on the floor? And so disheveled…” Schlatt reached out, plucking the mask off of Dream’s face.

“Why do you hide your face?” Schlatt mused aloud, turning the mask over in his scarily human like paws. “No matter. You won’t need it anymore.”

Dream watched as his mask, the one possession he’d had for years, was passed to one of Schlatt’s henchmen, who walked off down the hallway and out of sight. Something in him hurt to see it go, hated having it out of his reach.

“Now!” Schlatt clapped his hands together once, clasping his fingers together. “I’ll send in some people to tidy you up, then we can have your naming ceremony.”

The mandrill turned, stalking away, and a second later, actual, real people began filing into the room; five of them. Dream stared at them, barely able to breathe. He hadn’t seen another human, save for George, in literal years.

The people set on him before he could speak, attacking his hair with a brush and tugging him out of his clothing to try and stuff him into a suit that felt about fifty sizes too small. He didn’t try to complain, though, not trusting that Schlatt wouldn’t be on him in a heartbeat with his oversized incisors aimed for Dream’s throat. So much about the mute was off-putting, and made his skin crawl.

Dream found himself watching the humans trying to give him a makeover with some interest. Something about their movements seemed odd, like their minds weren’t completely their own.

Sooner rather than later they’d managed to wrestle him into the suit and wrangle his hair, and Dream found himself being corralled out of the room and down the hall. He let himself be led along, trying to create a mental map of the mansion, but after the tenth turn he gave up.

Eventually they emerged into a ballroom, vast and open and absolutely dripping in wealth. Solid gold statues were everywhere you could turn, and jade and emeralds studded the floor, while onyx and diamonds coated the ceiling. At the top of the ballroom, on a raised dais, in a royal cloak and jewel covered crown, Schlatt lounged on a throne.

The mandrill’s eyes seemed to light up as Dream walked in, and he leaned forward on his throne, clapping his hands, and the people who’d been dancing around the ballroom froze.

“Welcome, my beloved guest!” Schlatt’s voice echoed, and Dream tuned him out as he launched into a long, eloquent speech. It wasn’t until he was being nudged forward again that Dream zoned back in, registering the small bowl in Schlatt’s hand and the sickening grin on his face that showed off entirely too much of his teeth.

“It’s time,” Schlatt said, “For you to choose your name.”

It took a second for it to fully register. “What?”

“You’re free of fear here,” Schlatt replied, his grin widening and making Dream feel sick. “You’re out of the clutches of that freak’s control.”

“George isn’t a freak,” Dream spat.

“Everyone who comes here has to give up their old name,” Schlatt continued, ignoring him. “To set down the chains of their past, to begin anew. Tell me, what is your name currently?”

Dream’s hands clenched into fists. “Dream.”

Schlatt’s smile broadened. “And what will be your new name?”

“George gave me this name,” Dream hissed, shaking with anger. “I’m not giving it up.”

Schlatt’s grin dropped. “Disappointing.”

The mandrill dipped his fingertips into the bowl that rested firmly in his palm. Dream stepped back, alarm bells ringing in his head, but there was nowhere for him to go, a wall of people boxing him in. Schlatt ran his fingers over Dream’s forehead, the liquid substance on them soaking into his skin.

“Clay,” Schlatt whispered, and suddenly Dream was no longer in control, no longer thinking, no longer existing. He stood up straighter, his gaze trained on Schlatt, his only thought to await orders.

“Run along back to your room,” Schlatt said, glee in his tone.

And Clay turned and obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew Schlatt, if you'd like a visual on how he looks in this fic! https://twitter.com/EthanTheAnnus/status/1321752877174456320?s=20


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!!! i'm so excited everytime i turn to write more of this au- the amount of buildup and plot im getting to put into each chapter is insane, guys, you have no idea. I'm so excited to see how you all receive what's to come!

George pressed his back against the tree and flattened himself as much as possible, clutching the paw to his chest and praying the flamingos overhead wouldn’t spot him. He’d been on the run for over a day, headed in the direction Dream had directed him, and he frequently had to find cover from the henchmen of the mute who’d taken Dream.

George sunk down to the ground as the flamingos flew by, squawking and screeching loudly, and stared down at his paw. He could probably take on a few flamingos, if they found him, but they’d surely capture him while he clawed through someone’s chest. Better to stay hidden and stay alive so he could find the T Brothers.

The way Dream had spoken of them made him certain they’d be able to help him not only get rid of this paw- and probably find out what it was- but also help him work out how to rescue Dream, and any other humans the mandrill had in his hold. Woods sprawled all around him, stretching out in every direction, and George found himself wondering if he’d deviated from his course at all.

Was he still headed towards the T Brothers? He couldn’t be sure. He felt Patches nuzzle up against his arm and smiled weakly.

She and Stalky were the two things he had left of Dream, the constant reminders to keep going, to push on. George got back to his feet, clutching the weapon in his still-human hand, and continued through the forest.

Exhaustion threatened to tug him down. His stomach growled loudly, and he realised he couldn’t remember when he last ate. The world seemed to tilt around him a little.

Beside George, Patches arched her back, looking to his left and hissing. He slowly turned his head, but was interrupted as a large, four-eyed, six legged cat snatched him up into its mouth and turned to stomp back through the forest.

********

George’s entire body hurt as he was spat onto the ground by the cat. Patches was there in an instant, hissing, and he absentmindedly reached out to stroke her, looking around the small clearing he was now in. A small hut sat in the corner, the smell of cheese radiating from it, and George’s stomach growled again.

“Hello?” George called cautiously, wielding Stalky. There was some noise from the hut, and then out tumbled two very young mutes, one very tall and the other shorter than George. They looked like some sort of big cat, but George couldn’t place what, and both of them were very much blind.

“A guest?” said the one who was considerably shorter than the other.

“Why the fuck would we have a guest?” the taller one snapped, then reached out, his paw landing on George’s face. His eyes widened. “A guest!”

George pushed the mute’s hand away. “I’m looking for the T Brothers.”

“You’ve found us,” the shorter said, smiling so widely George was surprised it didn’t hurt. “Tubbo and Tommy- I’m Tubbo, he’s Tommy.”

Tubbo gestured in the complete opposite direction of the other mute, and George bit down a laugh.

“I need help,” he said, holding out his hand and paw to them. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

The two mutes ran their paws over his hand and paw, and their expressions grew troubled. Tubbo reached up, patting along George’s arm until he found his shoulder, and rested his paw there.

“We have to consult the cheese,” he said, very seriously. From beside him, Tommy nodded, and turned back into the hut. George almost questioned it, but remembered Dream had sent him here, and followed them inside.

He stood awkwardly as they chanted and put their paws into a vat of cheese, holding his own paw close to his chest and trying to make himself as small as possible. Finally, they turned to him.

“You are a living experiment,” Tubbo said. “Your DNA, fused with that of a mega caracal, means you will be able to transform, to become a mega.”

“Jesus fucking christ, Tubbo, that was shit. You could have been a little more mysterious about it.”

“Tommy, I swear to God, I’m going to-”

“Transform?” George stared down at the paw in wonder. “Will I become a mega forever? Will I forget who I am? Will-”

“You’re not gonna get stuck as the stupid mega,” Tommy said, rolling his blind eyes. “It’s only there for you when you need it. Like when you’re in danger.”

“Whenever you feel safe, it’ll go away,” Tubbo said in a gentler voice than Tommy seemed to ever be physically capable of. “When you’re in danger, or feel in danger, it’ll stay.”

“So why won’t it go now?” George asked, frustrated. “I don’t feel like I’m in danger.”

“But you know someone who is,” Tommy said. “Don’t you?”

George curled his paw into a fist, his heart twisting. “Dream.”

“Take a breath in. Try to remember something that makes you feel safe,” Tubbo said. 

George took in a breath, and thought of his Burrow. Of the safety and the warmth. The lack of mutes, the lack of fear, the lack of  _ Dream _ -

George’s other arm burst out with fur. He took another breath, and thought of Dream, and of the Timbercats, and of that dance in their mess hall. The fur on his right arm retreated.

He thought of the smell of syrup and fresh pine. He thought of Dream’s smile. His left arm returned, the paw shrinking back into fingers, the fur leaving.

“I did it!” George stared down at his own hands in wonder. Tommy seemed to stare right through him, in that moment.

“You’ll need to train somewhere safe,” he said after a moment. “You might already seem annoying as shit, but no mutes can find you here, so you should stay.”

Tubbo glared at Tommy, or would have, if he hadn’t turned his blind gaze on a rock instead. “You’re very welcome here.”

George took a breath in. He was no use to Dream if he couldn’t control his mute abilities. 

“Thank you,” George said slowly. “I’ll only stay until I’ve learned to control… whatever this is.”


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for no chapter yesterday, i had a friend over! this chapter is shorter since it's difficult writing dream's pov atm, but that should be easier soon when some more plot points kick in!
> 
> also, I'm 17 now! i am o l d

Only at nights was Dream freed of Schlatt’s control. Only when he was shoved back into his room, guards blocking the door, did the pheromones wear off and he was left, exhausted and broken and wondering if George was okay. If he’d found his Burrow.

If he was ever coming for Dream. If he’d abandoned him. If he still had Patches with him, or Stalky, or if he’d found the T Brothers.

Dream wondered if he’d ever see George again. 

He found himself by the room’s window most nights, staring up at the stars, wondering and hoping that George was looking up at them too. This particular night, tears fell freely from his eyes as he remembered the first night he’d spent with George; the first time the boy from the Burrow had seen stars, had stared up at them in pure awe and wonder.

Dream bit back a sob, swallowed down the lump in his throat. He’d give anything to be back out in the world, constantly glancing over his shoulder, if it meant he could see George’s smile again.

His head felt heavy every time he moved. With each passing day, his thoughts grew more jumbled. Dream or Clay? Which was he really?

At first, it had been more clear. Clay was the person Schlatt wanted him to be; under his control, obedient, nothing but a puppet. Dream was the person he truly was; tough and full of wit, the person George had dragged across the Surface and given a name to.

Now? The lines were blurred. He couldn’t remember his own name, sometimes. Schlatt’s voice rang through his thoughts, shouting orders and telling him what to do, calling him Clay and treating him as nothing more than a bug to be crushed under his heel.

The lavish room with gold-studded ceiling and velvet blankets was all for show. Schlatt gave him the luxuries of a guest while treating him like a prisoner, a slave.

All Dream could hope for was some kind of rescue.

********

Some small part of him registered the ache in his shoulders and back as he stood stiffly to attention in the ballroom. By his side was another human he didn’t know the name of, but he’d grown to recognise; slightly taller than him, with short, curly brown hair and sad brown eyes. Clay had learned to notice when the effects of Schlatt’s pheromones were wearing off of those around him; the way people would start to slump, the way their eyes would droop with exhaustion. 

For himself, he knew it the moment his eyes started to wander, taking in the entirety of the ballroom, or when his thoughts started to slip, betraying wants and desires. Clay would tamp them down for as long as he could; all he wanted was to serve Schlatt, to fill his every need, and these other goals went entirely against that.

A second name would pop into his head occasionally, a stupid, pointless name; Dream. It was often accompanied by memories of a short, brown haired boy, with a smile bright and blinding. Clay hated these memories with a burning passion, and would try his best to shove them aside the second they cropped up.

His posture straightened even further when Schlatt walked in through the doorway, his gaze flicking very quickly and dismissively over every single one of the humans standing in waiting. He climbed up onto the dais, onto the throne waiting there, and Clay’s eyes followed him.

“We have a problem,” Schlatt announced calmly, though his eyes shone with a fiery rage. “This boy from the Burrow, the one with the mute powers; he can’t be found.”

Schlatt stepped off his throne, off the dais, and caught Clay’s chin in his hand, fingernails digging into Clay’s skin. He winced, and silently prayed for George to come for him, before he returned to his sense and tamped such awful desires out.

“You,” Schlatt said slowly. “You knew him. You will lead the search to find him.”

At those words, the last of the pheromones slipped away, just for a second, and Dream felt his blood run cold. Then Schlatt was wiping his palm over the human’s forehead, and Clay was back in control.

“Yes, sir.”


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a little shorter, but a lot still happens, and it marks about midway through all my plot points! the pace from here might slow down a little again, but it'll pick back up soon enough, plus I'm trying to include as many character moments as possible!

George hated trying to control his powers. He hated the T Brothers, he hated everything, he hated Patches- okay, that was a lie. He didn’t hate Patches, or the T Brothers, or everything, really. 

He was just frustrated. Every day George spent trying to learn how to control the mega caracal was a day Dream, and countless other humans, stayed in the clutches of Schlatt. Whirling around in the clearing, George’s hand shifted into a large paw as he punched a tree.

He stayed there, his paw curled into an awkward fist, pressed into the small dent he’d made in the tree, his head down, panting. In the three days he’d been here, with the T Brothers, so far his only progress had been control over when his paws came out. He couldn’t do anything more, couldn’t sprout so much as a tail, and it made him want to scream.

With a yell, George drew back from the tree, letting his other arm shift into a paw, too, and clawed at it until it fell with a loud, sickening crack. He stood there, staring at it, and breathing heavily. Slowly, his paws retreated.

“Is everything okay out here?” Tubbo was making his way towards George, kind of, but the blind cat was a little off-course.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” George said, turning to face Tubbo. “Just knocked down a tree, that’s all.”

Tubbo gave him a sympathetic look, his gaze fixed just slightly above George’s head. “I’m sure you’ll get better at controlling your abilities soon. You couldn’t have knocked down a whole tree the day you arrived here.”

George supposed he was right, but he couldn’t let himself fully take on Tubbo’s words. As the kinder of the two brothers, he had a tendency to overly sugar coat everything. George had recognised this the moment he’d tried to convince him that Dream was probably being treated well by Schlatt, who George had very quickly found out from Tommy had a reputation for being the most dangerous mute on the Surface.

The T Brothers were polar opposites, really; Tubbo was kind in an almost motherly way, glossing over the more unsavoury parts of life to always look on the bright side, while Tommy was a full-blown pessimist who seemed determined to bring everyone’s mood down with him, coupled with his raging narcissism. George found, funnily enough, that he quite liked the T Brothers. When they weren’t receiving prophecies from cheese, that was.

“He can’t do anything more than summon his stupid paws,” Tommy called from across the clearing. Tubbo let out a hiss.

“It’s progress!”

George backed away before the brothers could start arguing again. He’d witnessed too many arguments between them in the past days, and wasn’t keen on hearing another one. Slipping away into the surrounding woods, George let his hands shift back into paws, and dropped down onto all fours, prowling through the forest in an imitation of big cats as he let his thoughts wander.

********

Commotion from the clearing the T Brothers lived in made George snap awake. He’d curled up under the roots of a large oak tree hours back, deciding to take a small nap. Now he shot up to run through the forest, down on all fours and sprinting flat out.

He didn’t notice his legs changing until suddenly he was moving at twice his normal speed, and he realised his legs were now hind paws. Moments later, a tail shot out from the base of his spine, providing him with more balance as he ran. Bursting into the clearing, George was met with the sight of Schlatt’s flamingos, swooping down over and over.

Tommy was standing over a cowering Tubbo, hissing at any of the oversized, two headed birds that dared to come too close. George instinctively crouched lower, the rest of his body shifting, and moments later he found himself towering over the trees.

His eyesight had sharpened, and his muscles rippled underneath his blue tinted fur. His almost-oversized ears flicked, picking up sounds he would never have heard outside of his mute form, and he let out a loud, angry yowl. The flamingos in the clearing froze, for a moment, and Tommy lunged upwards, catching one in his jaws.

George batted a couple aside like flies, finding a single step took him halfway across the clearing. Flamingos started to flee in all directions, some of them having their riders fall from their backs. George noticed with a start that they were all humans.

He spun around to bat at more flamingos, but all of them were out of reach; save for the one Tommy had caught in his jaws, the one he was stubbornly refusing to let go of. Part of George wondered how the blind cat had managed to fight so well, but he could worry about it later.

George’s eyes widened, then, as he spotted the rider atop the flamingo, knocked unconscious, and he lifted them off with a careful paw, placing them down on the clearing floor before shrinking back to his human form. Crouching over them, George had no doubt.

The human in front of him, battered and bruised and looking feverish, was Dream. From beside him, Tommy let the flamingo go.

“Dream,” George breathed, noting the blood on his forehead and how torn up his hoodie looked. He turned to Tommy and Tubbo.

“This is him. T-The one I wanted to rescue. This is Dream.”


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of today, to make up for the lack of a chapter yesterday! Fair warning: In this chapter there's a lot of stuff concerning a character mentally, most of all a loss of identity. If that kind of thing bothers you, proceed with caution!

The world tilted around him as he stumbled out of the bed he’d woken up in. He didn’t recognise where he was; and why wasn’t Schlatt’s voice in his head, giving him orders? His head hurt. He couldn’t remember his own name anymore.

He was meant to looking for someone… Or was it them who was meant to be looking for him? He couldn’t recall. His name seemed to float into view and slip out of his grasp again. Cleam? Dray?

Footsteps sounded, and he realised his head had dropped into his hands, and he’d frozen in place. Lifting his head, he quickly looked for a weapon. The only thing in close range was a small, thick stick, and he scooped it up, holding it protectively in front of himself.

Another human came into his line of sight, short and dark-haired, carrying a tray of some sort of food, which he subsequently dropped, staring, gaping, at the boy clutching the stick like a lifeline. He froze, eying down the newcomer and tightening his grip around the stick, his knuckles turning white.

“Dream?” The dark-haired boy’s voice seemed to break a little. “Y… You’re awake!”

Suddenly the strange boy was moving towards him, opening his arms. The boy with the stick leaped back with a hiss, brandishing his makeshift weapon towards him.

“Who are you?” 

The dark-haired boy’s face dropped. “God… What did he do to you?”

The boy with the stick backed up, panic flaring through him when his back hit a wall. Suddenly, the mess of his mind offered up a name;  _ George. _ With it came a rush of emotions, memories, and he felt his knees buckle under him, the stick falling from his hands.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” came the voice of the dark-haired boy- no, of  _ George _ \- and he dropped to the floor beside where the boy who couldn’t remember his own name had fallen seconds before. He swallowed, looking up to meet George’s gaze.

“G… George?” he croaked out, watching as the boy in front of him relaxed, his entire face softening into relief.

“Thank fuck,” George muttered, then simply said, “ _ Dream _ .”

The boy who couldn’t remember his name, the boy with the jumbled mess of a mind,  _ Dream _ , collapsed forward, George catching him. He brought his arms up around George, holding him tight as he shook. His mind was an absolute mess still, his thoughts and emotions jumbled, but his mind and his heart could agree on one thing; George equalled safety.

“God,” he heard George mumble. “I’m going to tear that bitch apart.”

“W-Who?” Dream managed shakily, his face still pressed against George’s shoulder. 

“Schlatt,” George said, spitting the name out like it was poison. Dream immediately straightened up, panicked.

“No, no, you can’t, he-” Dream brought his hands up to his head, pain flaring through his temple.  _ Clay, Clay, Clay,  _ echoed Schlatt’s voice through his head.

“Tubbo! Tommy!” George was calling to someone, but he sounded far away. Dream curled in on himself further. Or was he Clay?

His thoughts were jumbled, a mix of  _ fuck Schlatt  _ and  _ follow Schlatt’s orders  _ and  _ Schlatt controls you.  _ His emotions seemed to contradict each other. Tears started to well up in his eyes as he realised it wasn’t going to stop, that he didn’t know who he was anymore, not really, and he might never know.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tuned out the world and curled up on the ground, hands pressed over his ears.

********

Dream shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched George training from across the clearing. His mind felt less jumbled after a night’s sleep, and while he felt far from normal, this moment was nice. Patches rubbed up against his leg with a purr, and he leaned down to scratch behind her ears.

As he watched George train, he also side-eyed Stalky, which had been leaning against the side of the T Brothers’ hut from the moment he’d woken up until right now. Part of him itched to hold it in his hands again, but with how unstable his mind was, Dream didn’t trust himself with it. 

“Dream!” George was panting as he stood in front of Dream, eyes shining. “My reaction time is quicker than ever! Wait, oh my god, you haven’t seen me go full mega yet, have you?”

Dream found himself smiling fondly. “Yeah, no, I haven’t.”

George took a few paces back, then closed his eyes for a second. Then, in an instant, he’d transformed, blue tinged fur bursting out from him, paws replacing his limbs, a tail shooting out from the base of his spine. Suddenly, Dream found himself as the shorter one, staring up at George in awe.

The mega caracal leaned down, dark eyes level with Dream’s green ones. He let out a small snort before de-transforming. 

“ _ Christ  _ you get big,” Dream said before he could think, and George burst out laughing.

“I hear that all the time,” George managed after a moment, and Dream just scowled at him.

His thoughts threatened to jumble again, but he forced them down. He wasn’t about to let anything ruin this moment, right now. He’d wished to see George’s smile so many times in Schlatt’s palace, and now here he was, standing in front of him, grinning like an idiot.

Dream almost could have melted.

“I think I’m ready,” George said, breaking the gentle silence that had settled between them. “To face Schlatt, I mean.”

Dream shook his head before he could stop himself, the traitorous,  _ Clay  _ side of his brain controlling his motions. “No.”

“No?” George tilted his head, looking concerned, and Dream scrambled to fix it.

“I mean, uh, don’t you want to get back to your Burrow first? Let them know you’re safe?”

George’s face softened. “You have a point. Okay then. Onwards to my Burrow.”


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! sorry for the brief lack of updates, life and writer's block kind of hit me like a truck, so i took a step back for a little bit and now i think I'm ready to continue tackling this fic :)

Saying goodbye to the T Brothers hurt more than George expected. Tubbo had been tearful, dragging both him and Dream into a hug. Surprisingly, Tommy had also seemed sad to see them go.

“Stay alive,” Tommy had said. “If you don’t, I will personally set hell upon that fucking mute.”

George had smiled at him, and Tommy had joined their hug at Tubbo’s beckoning, although he seemed somewhat unenthusiastic about it. Finally, though, they’d said their final goodbyes, and left the small clearing. 

Some part of George hurt immensely leaving behind the place he’d trained in, the place he’d first managed to transform, but it was nice to be travelling with Dream again. Well, and Patches too, of course.

George was holding Stalky loosely in his left hand; Dream had refused to touch the weapon, for reasons George couldn’t determine, so he’d taken it instead. Another small change was the way Dream seemed less sure of himself, more skittish, his eyes darting around the forest as they walked.

It was a weird feeling to be able to see Dream’s face and expressions no matter the moment. George hadn’t had the courage to ask what had happened to his mask, simply assuming it had been Schlatt’s doing. He also hadn’t asked about Dream’s time being Schlatt’s prisoner; he didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to push the other man, knowing it was likely he’d just clam up more.

“It’s quiet out here,” Dream murmured suddenly.

“Not many mutes venture into this forest, apparently,” George said, oddly proud that he knew something Dream didn’t. “The mystery of the T Brothers scares them off or some shit.”

Dream let out a small, soft laugh that sounded so normal it hurt. “I can only understand the fear of the taller one.”

“Tommy’s given me more than a few existential crises in the time I was with them,” George said. The two of them walking through the forest, journeying towards George’s Burrow, felt so familiar, so normal, it was almost as if the past week hadn’t happened. Then George’s gaze would fall upon Dream again, the lack of his mask, and Stalky would weigh heavy in his hand, and suddenly he was hyper-aware of how much had changed.

Schlatt had done something to Dream, to his mind. George was sure of that much. His friend had woken up and seemed like a cornered animal, until something or other had triggered his memories of George, at least to some extent. He wished he knew how to help the taller man, but without knowing what the full extent Schlatt’s abilities was, or exactly what he’d done to Dream, all he could do was pray his presence was enough.

“Fuck,” Dream said, hours later, when they broke out of the treeline. “We have to go back through Umlaut Snake territory, or risk Skyscraper Ridge.”

George turned to Dream with a grin, letting his paws come out. “I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever the Surface has to throw at us.”

*******

It turns out George could  _ not  _ handle what the Surface had to throw at him. Skyscraper Ridge was a mess of broken buildings and rough terrain, and George was sweating before the forest they’d come from was even out of sight. Dream turned back to him, quirking a single, perfect eyebrow.

“Not handling everything the Surface has to throw at you?”

“Fuck you,” George huffed. “I’ve never done this much exercise in my life.”

Dream laughed then, but it sounded strained. “I forgot, you’re the Burrow Boy.”

George didn’t bother replying, letting his paws come out to haul himself up another stretch of rubble. Dream watched him for a moment before turning away with a wince, bringing up a hand to clutch at his head.

“You okay?” George called to him.

“Fine,” Dream called back, his voice cracking in the middle of the word. George didn’t think he sounded fine, but didn’t press the matter. 

“Is this why you didn’t want us to come through here?” George asked as he pulled himself up beside Dream. “The rubble and climbing and all round exhaustion?”

Dream shook his head, and gestured to a large, oversized, three tailed scorpion with stingers that George recognised as the same kind Stalky was. “That’s why.”

“I’ll just transform. March us right on through.”

“No.” Dream turned to George with the most serious expression he’d ever seen on the Surface human. “They’ll just take you down. You’re food to them.”

“I wouldn’t mind testing that theory,” George said, letting his paws come out. Dream looked panicked.

“George,  _ please  _ just trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

George let out a frustrated sigh, dropping down to sit atop the rubble, his paws retracting. “Then what are we meant to do?”

Dream studied the landscape below them for a long, tense minute. George could see his face twist and contort in pain a couple of times, only confirming that something had happened in his time being held prisoner. 

“Deathstalkers are tricky,” he said at last. “They track you through your heartbeat. Our best bet is to try and stay calm, and just walk right through.”

George let out a startled yelp. “How am I meant to stay calm walking by  _ that _ ?”

Dream chuckled. “Find a coping mechanism. The one time I passed through here, I just used a breathing exercise.”

“You passed through here before?”

Dream gestured to Stalky, and George felt like an idiot. He fixed his gaze down at the giant scorpions below, and tried to calm himself. They wouldn’t hurt him if he was calm.

… He was not calm. He was the exact opposite of calm. George took in a deep breath, clutching Stalky tighter, and turned to look at Dream once again. Funnily enough, the realisation he was with Dream made him relax more, made his panic ease. 

Dream had told him to find a coping mechanism, right? He’d never said it couldn’t be him.

George took another deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep hurting dream and i feel bad but it's for plot i SWEAR

Dream hated Deathstalker territory, and he hated being here with George, whose only experience on the Surface dated back to just over a week ago. Or had it been longer? His memories were too muddled to remember when they’d met.

As they ascended down into the middle of Skyscraper Ridge, the heart of Deathstalker territory, Dream found himself glancing over at George periodically. The other boy held Stalky like the weapon was a severed head still dripping blood; Dream itched to reach out and take it off of him, but the traitorous, shadowy sides of his thoughts lurked like an echo, and he didn’t dare make a move.

Recalling his breathing exercise from the times he’d passed through here before, he began to slow his breath, and subsequently his heart rate. Out the corner of his eye, he could see George adjust his grip on Stalky, holding it more like a weapon now.  _ Good. _

_ He’s going to panic,  _ whispered a voice in his mind that wasn’t quite his own.  _ The Deathstalkers will come for him. _

“Shut up,” Dream hissed under his breath, thankful when George didn’t notice.

_ They’ll sting him _ , the voice continued,  _ They’ll eat him. Then we can go back. _

Dream clutched at his head. “Get out, get out, get out.”

_ Schlatt will be missing us,  _ came the voice, the voice of Clay, the voice of his lack of freedom.  _ He  _ needs  _ us. _

“Get out!”

“Dream?” George’s voice broke through, and suddenly he was aware of George’s hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He shouldered the shorter aside roughly, ignoring the hurt sound George made.

“I’m fine.”

Dream didn’t dare look back at George, couldn’t bear to see his expression. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the first of what would be many Deathstalkers as they made their way past. He felt George press up against him as they did so, could feel the shorter trembling slightly, and regretted pushing him away moments earlier.

There was no time for him to voice this, though, not when they were in the midst of Deathstalker territory. Clenching his jaw, Dream continued forwards, George pressed tightly to his side.

*********

The sun was setting when they hit the centre of Deathstalker territory. Dream directed them towards an apartment block, leading George (who had to carry Patches) up the fire escape and into a small yet cozy apartment. There were two bedrooms, but the second housed a bed with a mattress so ripped it barely qualified as a pile of mattress stuffing. 

“Thank god this bed’s a double,” Dream muttered as they moved back in to the first bedroom. “We can share.”

George placed Stalky down on the floor, and Dream winced at the noise it made. “Which side am I taking?”

Dream shrugged. “Whichever side you want.”

He knew he’d made a fatal error when a shit-eating grin crossed George’s face, and he leapt onto the bed, spreading his limbs out to cover the entire thing. Dream regretted his life choices that had led to this moment.

“Alright, smartass, fun’s over,” Dream said, shoving George none-too-gently to one side of the bed. “I’m tired.”

“ _ You’re  _ tired? I had to carry Stalky all day, and that thing is  _ heavy _ !”

Normally, Dream would have laughed. Instead, the reminder that he couldn’t trust himself weighed heavy in his chest. Wordlessly, he slid into the bed, turning his back to George.

“Dream?” came George’s hesitant voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said shortly, closing his eyes.

“It’s just… Ever since…” George trailed off, going silent for a moment. “Ever since you… Came back… Something’s seemed off with you.”

_ He doesn’t trust you _ , came the awful voice of Clay. Dream tamped it down.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Just adjusting to being free again, that’s all.”

Patches jumped up on the bed with a soft meow; Dream could feel the impact of her landing. The silent coming from George was near-deafening, and part of him wanted to roll over and talk things out, to try and make it right.

Something in him stopped him, though. Some small part of Dream that feared George would hate him, would never trust him again, if he admitted that he didn’t feel completely in control. That sometimes his hand would move a few inches without his doing.

That sometimes he felt like killing George in the most brutal ways. That sometimes he wouldn’t be able to see, for a few moments. That he knew this was Clay, the other him, Schlatt’s version of him, trying to take control again.

Dream didn’t dare mention it. He couldn’t risk driving George away. Instead he just pulled the blanket up closer around him, shut his eyes tight and willed himself to sleep.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh BOY things are HAPPENING yall...

George was jolted awake by the feeling of someone pinning his arms to his side. His eyes shot open, but it was too dark for him to see beyond his own nose. He squirmed, trying to wriggle out of their grip, but the person’s fingers dug harder into his arms.

“Let me go!” George yelled, thrashing. “Dream!  _ Dream!” _

The soft, awful chuckle from above him made George freeze. 

“Dream’s gone, little Burrow Boy,” came the voice, distorted and full of venom and so  _ not  _ Dream that it hurt. “Amazing what a single drop of pheromones can do.”

“Dream,” was the only thing George could manage to say, his voice coming out broken. Dream-Not-Dream laughed from above him, a horrible sound that was so clearly not the Surface human George had grown close to over the past couple of weeks.

“Schlatt’s calling for us,” said Dream-Not-Dream, his fingers digging painfully into George’s arms as he hauled him upright. “He wants you, and he wants me.”

George winced as he was steered along through the apartment. “What did he do to you?”

“It’s not a matter of him doing something to me,” responded Dream-Not-Dream, and in the dim moonlit living room, George could see the crooked, awful smile on the other’s face. “It’s what he  _ gave  _ to me. A name, a purpose.”

“ _ I  _ gave you a name,” George said, broken. Dream-Not-Dream let out another awful laugh.

“A stupid one. The name Schlatt gave me came with a purpose.” The way he said Schlatt’s name was unnerving, full of so much reverence and respect that George felt sick.

He didn’t try to speak again, didn’t try to force sense back into Dream, knowing his friend wasn’t there anymore. Instead, as Dream-Not-Dream held George so he couldn’t escape and led him through the apartment, back out into Deathstalker territory, he let his gaze wander over his friend’s face, over his sharp, handsome features, and the tiny things that made them look so wrong.

Dream’s smile was off. Wider, less of a confident smirk, closer to a snarl. His eyes were harder, lacking the playful shine they’d had from the moment George had met him.

Dream’s posture was stiffer, less at ease, and his fingers dug so deep into George’s arms that he was sure it would bruise, and the Dream that George knew would  _ never  _ hurt him. His chest ached at the realisation that, at least for now, Dream was gone.

George’s blood boiled. He was going to make Schlatt pay, and he was going to make him pay  _ soon. _

********

Schlatt’s domain was more lavish than George had ever imagined. It was an old world palace, clearly restored, the walls inlaid with gold and marble, and was that some bismuth? Dream-Not-Dream was no longer forcing him along in the same manner he had before; he’d picked up Stalky before they’d left the apartment, and had the point of the weapon pressed lightly to George’s back.

George could see some guards making their way over, clearly ready to take over from Dream-Not-Dream, and tried to keep his gaze forward. He would not show weakness in front of them. That was when he noticed the oversized mandrill walking elegantly down the hall towards them.

“Well done, Clay,” came the mute’s voice.

“Thank you, sir,” came the response from behind George, and it took all he had not to go mega right then and there, for this was Schlatt standing before him, and he wanted to make him hurt. 

Schlatt seemed to regard them both for a moment. “Take him to stay in your quarters with you. I’ll deal with you both come morning.”

Dream- no,  _ Clay _ \- gave a nod, and then George was being forced to turn around, back down the hall, and then into a lavish room. The door shut behind the two of them, and George realised the room was a prison disguised with jewels and silk sheets. After a few moments, there was a loud, metallic clang sound from behind him.

“George?” Dream’s voice was quiet and broken. George turned, seeing Stalky on the floor and the distraught look on Dream’s face. “Fuck, what did I-”

“It’s not your fault,” George said quickly, not wanting Dream to immediately blame himself, when this was Schlatt’s doing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dream was quiet for a few moments. “I was scared. I thought… I thought you wouldn’t trust me.”

George instinctively reached out to cup Dream’s face in his hands. “I will  _ always  _ trust you.”

Dream’s eyes slid shut. “You’re not safe here with me.”

“I’m going to fix it,” George promised, running his thumb gently over Dream’s cheek. “This room can’t hold me. Schlatt doesn’t know what’s coming.”

Dream opened his eyes, regarding George with a mix of disbelief and sadness. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

George carefully let his paws come out, making sure his claws were sheathed so he didn’t slice Dream’s face to ribbons. “And he doesn’t know what I’m capable of.”

Dream placed a hand over one of George’s paws, letting it linger there for a moment before gently pulling the paw away from his face. “Just… Be careful.”

George grinned, pulling his other paw back from Dream. “Always am.”

Dream snorted. “No, you’re really not.”

“Okay, yeah, no, I’m not,” George admitted. “But I haven’t died yet.”

Dream regarded him for a moment, then pulled George into a tight hug, startling him. “Promise me you’ll come back to me in one piece.”

George pressed his face into Dream’s shoulder. “I’ll try.”

The two broke apart. Dream’s expression was impossible to read, a mix of emotions, and George didn’t try to say anything more. He took in a breath, then another, and let himself go mega.

He barely fit into the room, and he gave Dream a final glance before slamming through the wall of the room that led to the world outside, hitting the ground so hard it shook and taking off running. He was going to need all the help he could get.


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo its been a hot minute, sbi brainrot hit hard but i promise I'm going to finish this!!! only a few chapters now,,, hold onto your hats, y'all, it's gonna be a wild ride

Dream stared after George until the ground stopped shaking and the mega faded from view, and then for some time after that. His chest ached painfully, like George had reached in and taken his heart with him when he left. Dream didn’t know when he’d started needing the boy from the Burrow to survive, but now that he was gone, his absence was painfully clear.

Dream collapsed onto the bed, hating the silk sheets under him. He ghosted a hand over his cheek, where George’s hand, then paw, had rested hours earlier. Before he left.

Dream knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep now. He hoped George would be back before dawn, before Schlatt could mess with his mind again, but that was a big ask.

George needed an army, and it would take more than a few hours for him to get one. Dream closed his eyes with a sigh.

He’d better get used to being under Schlatt’s control again, at least for a little bit longer.

***********

Clay stood stiller than a statue as the oversized mandrill raged around him. The room was becoming more of a mess than it had already been as the mute trashed it, yelling so angrily that Clay’s ears rang.

“You,” Schlatt said, stopping right in front of Clay. “You let him leave.”

“Not me, sir,” Clay replied instantly. “The old one. The one who resists you.”

Schlatt seemed to consider this. “Find him.”

Clay didn’t have to ask to know who he meant. “Yes, Schlatt.”

He turned on his heel, leaving the room and the mute behind him. He knew better than to try and gather up some sort of team. Schlatt had sent him specifically, and would be expecting him to go alone.

His first stop was the weapons room. He wasted no time in getting on his armour, and selected a longsword as his weapon; it was two handed, but dealt far more damage.

He turned back out of the weapons room and continued through the winding, twisting maze of hallways that made up Schlatt’s mansion. Sooner rather than later, he found himself standing outside where the Burrow boy with mute powers would have landed.

..Huh. That was funny. He couldn’t recall the name of the boy. Not that it mattered anyway.

Clay touched a hand to his sheathed longsword. He looked down at the pawprints in the ground; they were shallow, since the ground was far from muddy, but they were there. Nothing that big could go anywhere without leaving some kind of trail.

Looking up, Clay could see a clear path carved through the nature outside. Branches and shrubs knocked aside by something undeniably big making its way through.

Clay grinned. This was a trail he could follow easily, and he could simply wait until the boy shifted out of his mute form, and subdue him.

_ No! _

Clay dropped to the ground, clutching at his head as pain flared through it. The voice was undeniably his own, ringing in his head, but it wasn’t his thought.

“I’m going after him,” he growled out loud.

_ Stop! _

Clay struggled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain. His skull felt like it might just crack wide open. He took a shaky step forward.

_ You can’t hurt him! _

Clay sunk to his knees. He kind of felt like vomiting.

“Schlatt  _ ordered  _ it.” Clay could feel his control slipping, and he fought to hold onto it.

_ Schlatt is evil. _

“No,” Clay mumbled, dropping his face into his hands. “No, please, he’ll kill us-”

_ “There is no us.”  _ The words tore from his lips without his doing. 

Clay was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. “Please.”

_ “Let go.”  _ The voice was softer now, almost gentle. Clay swallowed, closed his eyes.

He took in a shaking breath, and released the hold he had over the body. There was a jolt. Green eyes flickered open.

Dream stared around him for a moment before allowing himself a small grin; he’d won this fight, and he had no doubt George would ensure they won the next- the one that really counted.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a bit!!! the last couple of chapters are in sight now- probably only two or so more! the end is fast approaching, hold on to your hats!

_ Schlatt towered over him, taller than the trees and the still-standing skyscrapers. George felt like an ant- no, less than an ant. He couldn’t shift, the slight tingling rush of power he’d always felt not running through his veins anymore. _

_ “Hello, Burrow Boy,” Schlatt rumbled, grinning wildly. In his right hand dangled an unconscious Dream. _

_ “Dream!” George tried to reach for him, but Schlatt just laughed. _

_ “It’s over.”  _

_ Then he leaned down and, with a clash of teeth, swallowed George whole. _

*******

George’s head hit the tin roof of his tiny shelter with a loud clang. He winced, rubbing at it, and tried to shake off the dream he’d had. Rain pattered down outside, and he curled in on himself further.

“George? Is that you?”

“Go back to sleep, Bad,” George replied gently. The Timbercat shifted in a similar tin shelter just across from where George’s own was.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“I said go back to sleep.” George rolled over in his shelter so his back was to Bad.

“Nightmare?” The Timbercat asked gently. George exhaled.

“Nightmare,” he confirmed. “But it’s fine.”

“You’re under a lot of pressure,” Bad observed, “So I doubt it’s fine.”

George rolls over to face the odd, horned black cat. “Schlatt won.”

“And?”

“And… I’m scared that he actually might,” George admitted, voicing concerns he didn’t even know he had. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

Bad chuckled. “What happened to the kid who walked into Timbercat village without fear?”

“He grew up,” George said, looking away. “Learned about the Surface the hard way.”

“Hmm.” Bad shifted. “You looked at me and my horns, and the axes everyone had, and didn’t get scared. You can face one mandrill.”

“One mandrill with an  _ army  _ of  _ mind-controlled  _ people!” George gripped at his hair in frustration. “He could pull me under at any time.”

“It’s like fighting a Hydra,” Bad said.

“What- I have to cut off all the heads and cauterise them?”

Bad shook his head. “You don’t go for the heads. You go for the heart.”

“The heart?”

“Schlatt’s the reason the army’s together, right?” Bad met George’s gaze. “You take him out, and it’s all over. He’s the heart of the Hydra. The weak point.”

“... I’m pretty sure you kill a Hydra by cutting off the heads, then cauterising the wound,” George said, “But you have a point.”

Bad grinned. “And who said Timbercats aren’t smart?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” George said with a small smile. His gaze drifted up to Bad’s horns. “Were you… Born with those, or…?”

“Actually, I wasn’t,” Bad replied. “Some human did something to me, and these grew in.”

“Probably DNA splicing,” George said. “Kind of like me.”

Bad smiled. Rain pattered onto the ground between them.

“Kind of like you.”

“George? Oh, there you are.” 

“Tubbo?” George blinked, looking blearily at the odd-cat creature who’d trained him only so many days ago. It felt like a lot longer. 

“There are search parties out.”

“Schlatt?” George was suddenly on high-alert.

“Schlatt,” the blind cat confirmed. “We should be safe here, but-”

A loud squawk came from overhead. George yanked Tubbo under the small shelter by the arm, pressing the small cat in as much as possible in the small space. They froze there for a long moment until the wingbeats of flamingoes faded into the distance.

“But we can’t stay here long,” George finished for him, letting Tubbo crawl back out of the shelter. “Schlatt is on the move, and we need to be too.”

“You’re ready to face him?”

“He still has Dream. There’s no choice.”

Bad’s eyes widened for a moment, understanding dawning over his features, and George didn’t have time to work out what it meant.

“We can move again at sunrise. Schlatt seems to prefer unleashing his patrols at night,” George continued. “We’re about halfway there now.”

“I’ll let everyone know,” Tubbo said, scampering off and nearly tripping as he did so.

“When you get your boyfriend back, go for the heart,” Bad said, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“Not my boyfriend,” George said, ignoring the small pang in his chest, “And don’t worry. I know what to do.”


	18. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THOUGHT WE WERE CLOSING IN ON THE END BUT THEN I TOOK A REALITY CHECK AND MAYBE WE'RE A LITTLE WAYS OFF YET OOPS-  
> also, i drew halfway muted out george! https://twitter.com/EthanTheAnnus/status/1341379344850067456?s=20

Dream hated the outdoors. He hated the Surface. He hated the distance between him and George, and not knowing where the Burrow Boy currently was.

Most of all, though, he hated the rain. It drizzled down at first, but soon was coming down so hard and fast that Dream could barely see his own hand in front of his face. He didn’t even have a clue what direction shelter was in, and simply had to keep stumbling onward.

Miraculously, he managed to get under a tree with heavy enough of a canopy to keep him almost completely dry. Dream hated that he couldn’t analyse the landscape around him to plot out his next move while waiting out the rain.

“Damnit,” he mumbled, slumping back against the tree trunk. He was armed with nothing; Stalky was somewhere in Schlatt’s mansion, George was somewhere on the Surface, and Patches was most likely with George.

The six-legged cat hadn’t been with him when he’d- no, Clay- had kidnapped George. Dream could only assume she’d followed behind from a distance. Patches was smarter than most people would think.

Dream sat down with a sigh. The rain could last for as long as a day. He was stuck here with nothing more than his thoughts, and half of his thoughts wandered to things they shouldn’t.

Like George’s smile. Or the excited lilt to his voice anytime he got to at least somewhat mute out. Or the lack of fear he had going into any situation.

All of these thoughts made Dream’s chest ache in a way that was unfamiliar to him. He wasn’t really sure if it was a good or bad feeling, so he was best to keep his thoughts fixed on survival, at least until he and George were safe.

Schlatt couldn’t find him in this rain. That was a positive.

Dream couldn’t find George in this rain. That was a negative.

George could have gathered some form of allies by now. That was another positive.

Dream sighed, dropping his head back against the tree. George, George, George. Everything came back to George.

His thoughts ran circles around him and linked back to the boy from the Burrow before Dream could wrestle them back into line. His chest felt tight.

Dream wasn’t really sure why or how George had become the centre of his life, but it had happened. George was the sun, lighting up every place he touched.

And Dream was the entire earth, constantly needing that sunlight to thrive.

*********

Wet earth sucked at his boots as Dream slowly continued through the forest. The rain had stopped about an hour prior, and the ground was so muddy it felt like it might swallow him whole.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream muttered as he yanked his leg up out of the mud yet again from where his boot had threatened to get stuck. He was really just wandering aimlessly, but Dream wouldn’t admit that, not even to himself.

The truth was, he had no clue where George was. But he also couldn’t stay put when Schlatt was probably looking for him. 

If he learned Dream had managed to fight off the pheromones, by some miracle, then all hell would break loose. Schlatt would probably kill him, or George. 

So, he kept moving. 

The rain seemed not to be coming back for now. It took Dream far too long to realise he was treading the path to the T Brothers. It was his bet bet for where George was.

George had trained with them. Dream could only hope he might have gone back there, at least for a short while.

He was carrying a stick now. He’d found a decently thick and sturdy one on the way, and had it just in case he needed a makeshift weapon. He gripped it tightly now, not liking the way the forest shrouded him from seeing anything approaching.

“Who’s there?”

Dream froze at the voice. He wasn’t entirely sure what direction it came from. His knuckles grew white as his grip tightened.

“If you’re one of Schlatt’s army, turn back,” came the voice. “Or you’ll regret it.”

“I’m not Schlatt’s army,” Dream called back, relief washing over him as he realised he wasn’t about to be killed. “I’m… An escaped prisoner.”

A tall, thin black cat stepped into view. With horns.

“... Bad?” It had been ultimately not that long since he and George had met the strange Timbercat, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Bad’s expression shifted into something akin to elation. “Oh my god, Dream! George is going to be so glad-”

“George is here?” Dream interrupted.

“Well, yeah,” Bad tilted his head, “He’s forming an army. The Timbercats have joined already.”

Dream let out a breath. “So he’s really doing it. He’s going to…”

“Take down the most feared mute on the Surface, yep,” Bad said. “I’d say he’s crazy if I wasn’t on his side.”

Dream laughed. “I take it you’re staying in the clearing with the T Brothers?”

“Where else? Come on, I’ll take you back.”

Dream followed after the Timbercat, his thoughts jumbling. A mantra of  _ George  _ and  _ fuck this mud  _ and  _ oh my god GEORGE _ ringing through his head.

He was going to see George again. George was safe. They were both safe.

Dream almost wanted to try and run just to move faster, but the ground was still muddy as hell, and he would probably break something if he tried. The pace was agonisingly slow, but the clearing wasn’t far.

It came into Dream’s line of sight none too quickly, and it was a challenge not to just run for it. Bad seemed to sense this, giving him a knowing glance.

“He’s somewhere around,” Bad said as they reached the clearing’s edge. “I’m sure you’ll find him.”

But Dream wasn’t listening, because he’d already spotted George. He moved across the clearing faster than he probably should have.

“George!” he called when he drew nearer. The shorter boy looked up, seeming confused before his eyes fell on Dream.

“Dream?” So many emotions seemed to flash over George’s face before he settled on one; joy. “Dream!”

Dream was knocked backwards by the force of George’s hug, landing him in the mud, but he didn’t care. All he could do was laugh, and hold George tightly.

“I thought Schlatt had you,” George mumbled into his shoulder.

“I’m too smart for him,” Dream replied, giving George a small squeeze. George drew back just enough to take a look at Dream.

“You’re covered in mud.”

“You knocked me into the mud.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” 

For a moment, Dream let himself get lost in George’s eyes, a brilliant shade of chocolatey brown. Then, George pushed himself up and offered Dream a hand to help him stand.

“Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REUNION CHAPTER POG


End file.
